


in my dark times

by sharpbluejay (angelhalo)



Series: a bird in the hand [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Overdosing, Somnophilia, Unreliable Narrator, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 04:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelhalo/pseuds/sharpbluejay
Summary: No one was above drugs. Except Roman, for some strange reason, had assumed Jason Toddwas.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Jason Todd
Series: a bird in the hand [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209917
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38
Collections: Romin Week 2021





	in my dark times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PlatonicLiquid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlatonicLiquid/gifts).



> Late entry for Day 2 of Romin Week, Drugged. 
> 
> Many thanks to Plato for helping me with this! 
> 
> Do feel the need to warn for Roman's misogyny in this.

Roman Sionis was not above having vices. 

In their line of business, an addict was a dime a fucking dozen. Needed, in order for everything to flow as it should. His boys made addicts every day if it meant bringing him his money. Overdoses were just the costs of doing business. 

That’s why he was never one to judge an addict. As long as they didn’t fuck him over, he was fine with it. Every gambler he crossed paths with would either save himself or fall into the trap. Every alcoholic that sat down at his bar, either paid their tab or paid the price.

The fact was that with all his riches, reputation, and power, _he_ wasn’t supposed to be one. He would never admit it out loud, would slit the throat of anyone who would dare imply he was—

But when he was sixteen, he stood in the bathroom of a Gotham club. Dark, crowded, and filled with bodies. There had been an older man with a speckled gray beard and dark eyes who had held the back of his neck as he leaned down to do his line. At the moment before the inhale, he had felt an unmistakable calm, had lived his life full of rage and in that second, felt none, and then he inhaled. His nose stinging, his ears ringing while the world began to move again.

The man behind him ground against his back and chuckled when Roman looked up at him with wide-blown eyes, had pushed him to his knees with a hand on his head, and groaned when he leaned forward to rest his head against his pant leg, tried to breathe as everything around him sped up. 

“C’mon kid,” He had said. “It’s not gonna suck itself.” 

And from then on, Roman found himself in those bathrooms, over and over again. More lines, higher quality shit, more sex, bitches moaning in his ear as he fucked them against the wall, men with hands in his hair. Then there was the alcohol, the blackouts to avoid hearing what his parents were trying to say to him, if they spoke to him at all. More and more until he couldn’t go a day without chasing the stuff.

And then, of course, the day it all caught up to him. Everyone got tangled in it, eventually. Most people overdose—

Roman _didn't_ , his undoing was not drug-related, was orchestrated by the corrupt assholes sitting on his company’s board. He should have murdered them when he killed his parents, an oversight in the long run. But what could he say, he’s not perfect.

He understood everyone made mistakes with that shit. It was so easy to get drawn in and no man was above it.

Except, for some impossible reason that escaped him, he had thought _Jason Todd_ was _._

So he didn’t expect it when Jason’s number rang the line that Roman paid for, the one that he was always supposed to answer if he wanted him. 

“Where are you?” He asked, didn’t expect the silence that answered him. 

“Mister Sionis?” It was a girl’s voice, first strike. Thick like she’d been crying. “We’re outside.” Her voice trembling but steady, like she practiced before she called. 

“Where is he?” Stood up from his chair, put his hand on his hip. Looked out his windows at a dark sky and Gotham with her hulking buildings littered with a light here and there. It was late enough that even most of the denizens that haunted the city had retired to their haunts, late enough that a girl with a teary voice telling him she was outside and that Jason couldn’t even speak for himself was suspicious as fuck. 

“I was going to come up, but he told me to call first.”

“Roman,” It was Jason’s voice, but far away. It’s distant, small, _weak_. Second strike. 

“He’s,” Fresh hiccuping sobs filled her voice. “Mister Sionis, please” Even as her voice shook with fear, she didn’t drop the term of respect. “It's looking bad for him, he said you could help,” Jason assumed a lot of things about him and wasn't always right. 

But Roman was out the door of his penthouse anyway, didn’t grab his mask, didn’t even say a word to his guards. But they’re quick to follow him. Loyal dogs. 

He didn’t expect to find Jason splayed out in the backseat, trembling, but no blood. He expected a gunshot maybe, had already seen the boy take a few bullets before and keep kicking. There was a girl in the front seat, Jason’s phone still pressed to her ear, Jason's jacket around her shoulders, brown skin a sickly pallor. She’s _high_ , his mind helpfully supplied to him, yet drove them over here, anyway. 

Jason was trying to speak, his mouth moving, his green eyes on Roman, dull. He reached out to touch his forehead, felt his skin cold to the touch. Jason burned hot every other time, so his hackles went up. 

“What’s wrong with you?” He muttered.

“Looks like he’s overdosing, boss.” One of his men said and Roman rolled his eyes. 

“I know what it fucking looks like,” He growled out. “One of youse call the doctor, get her inside, and you,” He pointed his finger at one of his personal guards. “Help me move him.” 

Jason shook in his arms, and Roman seethed with a low level of fury. He shouldn’t even have been out, had a job early in the morning, usually spent his nights on his knees at Roman’s feet where he fucking belonged. He should’ve left him there in that car, let that stupid bitch he hung around figure it out. Or better yet, drop him in the street to shiver to death as he beat the life out of his friend for trying to involve him. 

Idiots. Fucking dumb kids messing up his Tuesday night. 

“He's cold.” He said into his phone, his hand pressed against Jason’s neck, pulse distant and quiet. 

His lips were blue, teeth chattering, his thick black eyelashes kept fluttering like he wanted to open his eyes but couldn’t. 

“You’re going to have to get him warm,” The voice on the phone said, endlessly patient with him. “What was it?” Roman repeated the question out loud to the only person coherent enough to answer them.

“Jay was drinking a little, but some of the others had K,” The bottle girl said. _Jason’s friend Lia_ , his brain spit out of him. Knew she worked at one of his clubs, was usually more done up than this, her makeup smeared across her face. “Maybe he had some somehow,” She stuttered out. Lying. She’s wringing her hands and holding her head down and fucking lying to him. Annoying. 

He grabbed her by her throat, forced her head up to look at him, her brown eyes alight with fear as he held her so tight she couldn’t breathe. How dare she fucking lie to him. 

“What else was there?” His voice was unshifting, flat. She whimpered, dropped her eyes from him. 

“Molly,” She whispered, “But Jay wasn’t—” A quick squeeze silenced her, her hands flying to her throat but his grip was strong as she gagged, tears dripping from her eyes. He slammed her against the wall, her eyes rolling back as she tried to breathe.

Fuck was wrong with Jason? This was ridiculous. He had to practically force the boy to do cocaine those few times in his office, had held his head to the desk, and forced him to take his lines until the pupils in his eyes were huge, the green so bright it was inhuman. Fucked him against the wall so hard, the picture frames shattered on the floor. And then they’d gone all over again, all over that fucking office. 

Jason didn’t even _like_ downers, had cried the first time Roman slipped them into his drink, passed out, and woke up furious. 

He just didn’t do drugs. Asking him to go on an H deal? Useless, he always dug his heels in until Roman either hit him or kicked him out, which got him what he wanted anyway. 

If he had known it was all an act, that the brat wasn’t as against the drugs as he seemed, that his hang-ups obviously didn’t go as deep to the bone, he would have piled him with the best shit in the world. They could have had days of them together both high and lazy, fucked out, but no Jason wanted to do this shit, made Roman want to kill him for being so fucking _stupid_. 

“You heard that?” Silence besides the scratch of a pen on a pad. Lia squeaked underneath his hold, her eyes big and scared. He tapped a finger against her chin as she shook. 

“Yes.” The doctor said. Her manner brisk, her voice a cooling aid to the rage that was boiling inside of him. “I’m on my way, keep him warm,” He let Lia go and watched as she slid to the floor. Her tight little dress made a grating sound as the black sequins rubbed on the wall, her body shaking and shivering. Dumb bitch. 

“Blankets,” He started to order to his men, heard a distracting click of the doctor's tongue. 

“No, stick him in the bathtub, you’re going to have to keep his head above water. Make sure it's not too hot.” They were already moving him, Jason not even making a sound as he was roughly picked up from the couch they deposited him on. “And Roman,” Her voice so calm it made him grit his teeth. Where was her fucking urgency? “Don’t hurt her.” His glance moved to Lia, his rage flaring. This was this little slut’s fault anyway. If anything happened to Jason, he was going to string her up by her toes, was going to slit her throat, and let her pulse slow till her heart gave out. How dare she even—“It sounds like your boy is going to need everyone on deck if he’s going to stay alive.” 

“Fuck you.” He said, not even snapping it, each word dropping out with a click of his teeth and she laughed at him. He didn’t hang up on her though, stuck her on speaker, and slid her into his pocket. Jason’s head was heavy like a corpse in his hands.

Wasn’t this some shit. 

He ran the water of the bath, slid Jason’s body in, held his head in his hands, his neck slack, mouth open. His skin had a grayish tint, and he was so heavy. He kicked his men out the second Jason was stable, didn’t want their presence behind him if he got worse, or their pitying glances. Didn’t know what he would do. Probably just start gutting them, and that was always a bother to clean up. 

Lia sat cross-legged across from him on the dark tile, tears dripping from her eyes. She was really fond of the boy. “Is Jay,” She was much too pretty to cry, probably why they hired her in their clubs in the first place. “Is he going to die?” And Jason, he’s still and quiet, his pulse slow and faint, and even in the warm water his body was not where it should be. 

“No,” He said, because Jason better not, was not allowed to. “He’s sturdier than this,” Been through worse, would know much worse when Roman was through with him. Lia’s tears fell harder, making him roll his eyes. 

How dare Jason put him through this, what was wrong with him? His fingers clenching in his soaked shirt, more annoyed when he didn’t react to the stimulation. He should just let his head go, let him drown in this water, and wash his hands of him. If it was any of his other men, he would have left them in that car, would have shot them dead for wasting his fucking time like this. Jason shouldn't have been exempt from that. His hand slid into the boy’s hair, anyway. 

When the Doctor got there, she shoved Roman away from Jason’s body. He balled his hands into fists to avoid lashing out at her. He hated seeing her ass; she was so damn bossy. 

“I am going to give orders and you are going to follow them if you want him to live,” Roman’s scowl deepened as Lia cried harder. Bitch. 

“Just save him.” She looked him in his eyes and without his mask, he always felt naked to a certain degree, this never more evident than the seconds that she held his gaze as he got angrier and angrier. His hands starting to shake with rage.

He was going to kill her, and everyone in this damn bathroom, starting with the little slut who ruined his night by bringing Jason here and ending with Jason himself for daring to make it so Roman wouldn’t just leave him to fend for himself. The doctor shook her head at him, exasperation clear in her brown eyes, and got to work. 

He followed every order she gave him as she worked. Lia was their third hand, her bare feet smacking against the floor as she moved back and forth. Her fear for herself and Jason sobering her more than anything. 

It was clinical, the way they worked. Rage made his fingers twitch every so often, dark twisting repeating thoughts of ‘how could Jason do this to him, how _dare_ Jason do this to him?’ But still, something in his chest (certainly not his heart) leaped at seeing the boy respond to her actions. The first sound leaving his mouth since they’d brought him inside, only a very slight balm to his anger. 

The doctor’s mouth was a tight line as her hands worked. Water sloshed all over his expensive tiles, seeped into his socks and the edges of his pants. Out of the corner of his eye, Lia’s tears continue to fall. Guilty little whore.

But finally, the Doctor sat back on her heels, sighed as she wiped her face. 

Something clawed at his chest, Lia sobbed loudly in the bathroom, her wails echoing off the walls. Jason better not be—

“He’s alright,” She said more to Lia than him, even as Roman felt his body unlock itself, his limbs becoming liquid. “He’ll live, Roman.” He reached out a hand, slid his fingers across Jason’s water-soaked curls before he could stop himself. His rage cooled only a little as Jason groaned in protest. There was color back in his face, the gray leaving his skin. 

That was _his_ boy. 

His hands shook as he thought about shaking Jason until he woke up. Roman wanted him to answer for himself _now_. 

“Both of you, get out.” Lia startled, squeaking like a rabbit, her hand darting back from where it was reaching out to touch Jason, fear, and relief so intermingled on her face. 

“Roman,” The doctor said. She was so obnoxious, judgment so clear in her voice. That was Mister Sionis to her. “We just worked so hard—”

“Sometime today.” Her lip quivered in disgust. “I don’t repeat myself.” Her eyes darted to Jason, still so still in the tub and then back to his face. He wondered what was on it, had always been commended on his poker face even without the mask. 

“Don’t kill him.” She pleaded, her ice exterior finally melting. “Don’t let my work go to waste.” 

“Before I’m not so nice.” Lia stood up on shaky feet, reached for the doctor who shook her off. Good girl. 

What was it about Jason that inspired this type of protectiveness? Lia risked her life to lie for him even when he was lying there dying, and now this bitch who didn’t even know the little brat was trying to stand up to him. Nothing made sense.

“I don’t want to see your face again,” He told Lia, who nodded as stumbled back, not even turning her back to him until she was out of the bathroom door. He heard her retching, loud and pathetic. There better not be a mess on his floors. 

“I’m going to do a checkup in a few days.” The doctor said, holding his eyes, steel in her voice, and he shrugged. 

“Fine.” He said. Jason would be alive. In one piece? Depended on how he responded to Roman once he woke up. But she finally left, after one more searching look at him, disgust so clear in her eyes and then one more press of her hand to Jason’s forehead, her lips pursed.

 _What was it about him_? 

He pulled Jason from the bathtub, used his knife to cut his wet clothing away until they were little more than rags, used too much force when lines of red appeared across his chest and his thighs, but Jason could take it, he’d better. Rubbed his skin dry until it was raw and pink. Small groans leaving his mouth.

Jason’s not light, but he didn’t call for help as he maneuvered the boy’s body to their bed, the black sheets bunched around his tan skin, his ass up, his lovely thick thighs on display. Jason moaned, cold. Hand twitching as he tried to reach for blankets and Roman just threw the comforter over him. The fluff of his hair the only thing he could see.

Only then did he strip, throwing his wet clothes away to be dry-cleaned. He was going to make Jason be the one to do it and would whip him if anything was unsalvageable, was planning to take this out on his hide, regardless.

Jason would never want to _think_ about another drug when Roman was through with him.

He ran a hand down Jason’s back as he climbed into their bed, grabbed his hip, and tugged him closer. His skin still clammy to the touch, a pained groan falling from his lips at Roman’s continued manhandling of his body. 

If he didn’t want Roman to do this, maybe he would have thought before allowing it to happen to him. His fingers roamed, pinching at Jason’s nipples until they were hard, holding his firm fat pecs in his hands, rocked his soft cock against that ass and as he hardened. 

He bit Jason’s neck hard, until the taste of copper came to his mouth, Jason mewling, trying to shift away from his teeth. How dare he let this happen to him. Another bite, an answering gasp. He was supposed to be smarter than this. Thrust hard against the fat of his ass. God, he wanted to—

It’s nothing really to spit on him, to fuck it inside of Jason with his finger, his body shaking. Looked at his face and saw his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth grimacing, but no signs of his waking up. 

Good for him because Roman would never let him know peace the moment he rejoined the land of the living. One finger became two, a hasty spreading, and then he pressed the fat head of his cock inside of Jason’s body. He was so pliable, but it was still a tight fit, still took a push before he was flush against the boy’s back.

Fucking brat. 

A snap of his hips and Jason’s entire body moved. He’s panting and growling, his hand tight around Jason’s throat, sure to leave him with a necklace full of bruises. The tiny twitches of Jason’s body gave the illusion of his consciousness, the whimpers he gave no different from the ones he would give awake. But his eyes were closed, his mouth open, and Roman thrust harder, dug his nails in, and pulled. 

He’s just so annoyed. Jason shouldn’t be like this, passive beneath him, made silent and weak. Shouldn't have been stupid enough to do whatever he did, was supposed to be good enough that he could take over Roman’s business. Was supposed to be capable of being just like _him_. He wanted to make sure Jason woke up hurting, wanted to see him bleed. 

There was a coiling in his gut, tight, as he gripped Jason’s hips and continued to thrust, the smacks loud and echoing throughout the bedroom, the fluttering of those fluffy black eyelashes the only sign he got that Jason was anywhere close to consciousness. 

Ketamine was that bitch for a reason. 

(If Roman was being honest with himself, which he hardly ever was, this was about making sure that he could feel Jason’s pulse steady underneath the hand he curled around the boy’s throat. Feel his skin, finally warm from Roman’s own body heat and this frenzied coupling. About dragging a hand through his soft curls, still damp from the bath, making sure that Jason was _alive_ and not dead because of his own fucking stupidity. That this pain he was causing him would remind Jason that the only person allowed to kill him was Roman and not even himself.)

His orgasm caught him by surprise, the tension in his gut and chest coming undone as he came inside of Jason, his warm walls clenching around him. It dulled his anger, allowing him to think clearer. Jason’s body shifted as the boy tried to pull away, his movements still weak and sluggish. A look at his face found tears sliding down his cheeks. 

Pulling out was a chore, the wet white cum dripping its way out of his ass and onto the sheets beneath them, mixing with blood and sweat. 

He wrapped his arms around the boy, dug his nails into him until he stilled, a frown on his unconscious face, a shifting of his legs as he settled into his sleep. 

He better sleep well. It would be the last bit of peace he would have for a while. 

* * *

Waking up was difficult, a hard task to even open his eyelids. Every inch of his body felt heavy, marked up, and sore. His stomach rolled, his ass hurt, there was a splitting headache behind his eyes. 

A black hole where his memory should be. 

He’s in Roman’s bed, familiar black sheets beneath him, _naked_ , and the thought was enough to have him—fuck—trying to scramble from the bed so that he didn’t,

“Here,” A wastebasket. Black spots in his vision, lightheadedness, as bile spilled from his lips. There was a hand wrapped in a leather glove laying on the back of his neck, his eyes closed as his nose burned. 

Everything hurt. 

“Are you done?” And he’s blinking bleary eyes up at Roman—no—the Black Mask, beady red eyes focused on him, behind an elaborate gilded gold and black mask. Fuck. What happened last night? It had been a minute since he woke up to the Black Mask in his face. “Are you done?” The crime lord repeated, shaking the wastebasket in front of his face. All Jason could do was give a dumb nod. 

The hand left the back of his neck, he breathed out a sigh of relief with the weight gone, Mask moved with ease to drop the basket outside. 

“Wha—” 

“I wouldn’t speak if I were you, I’m not really in the mood to be lied to.” Jason’s mouth closed with a snap. Mask crossed his arms, made him feel small as he looked down at him. One of them was fully dressed and it was not Jason.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Roman.” He said, dug his fingernails into his palms. God, what the fuck happened? 

“Good, because if anything false came out of your face I would have to kill that little whore that’s so fond of you.” Who— _oh no_. 

“ _Lia_ ,” he breathed out. “Roman, what,” it was so hard to speak, each word felt like pulling teeth. “What _happened_?” 

“Let’s see,” Held up his fingers as he counted off. “You were drinking,” This didn’t feel like a hangover. “Then you decided to pop some ecstasy, which you’d refused to do with me,” Because he didn’t want it, had never wanted it. “But that wasn't enough for you so you also took horse tranquilizers, and then you fucking overdosed,” Jason furrowed his brow. "Needed me to save you." That would explain why he hurt, but that didn’t make any sense, he didn’t,

“I wouldn’t do—” He didn’t expect Roman to smack him so hard his ears started ringing, the gold rings slicing along his jaw. His body started to spasm, little shakes that he couldn’t control. Oh, he thought, he’s still coming down. Roman’s hand slid into his hair and gripped tightly as he shushed him. He tried to struggle but as he laid there helplessly, he wanted to scream. He couldn’t even fight off a kitten right now. 

“What did I say about lying to me?” He wasn’t even yelling, didn’t even sound angry, his voice flat and monotone. Tears pricked in Jason’s eyes as he gripped his chin tight in his hand, the leather rough against his skin. Everything just fucking hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” God, where did that come from? “I just… I don’t remember.” There was a flash, Lia’s tongue in his mouth, a white tab, a whispered ‘sorry’, lines of white powder. “We were entertaining those Russians at the club last night, they must have,” Tears spilled down his cheeks and he couldn’t stop them. Was this a reaction to the drugs? “You gotta believe me,”

“I don’t,” Tapped at his cheek, and Jason flinched expecting another hit. He couldn’t stop fucking crying. It was _annoying_. “Just accepted that I had been too lenient with you, hadn’t disciplined you enough.” A little unspoken ‘like a good Daddy should,’, Sometimes Roman could be so predictable. “You’re young, you make mistakes. This stuff gets even the best of us,”

“But I didn’t,” His mouth was so heavy, it was so hard to speak. “I don’t even do drugs,” Roman knew that, knew _him_ , knew that was his hard line, knew that this didn’t make any fucking sense.

“So you were just stupid enough to let yourself get drugged,” A roll of his shoulders, leaning back and just surveying him. He felt so frustrated under those eyes, wanted to scream that _Roman_ had drugged him before, and _laughed_ when Jason got angry with him. “You put yourself in a situation you shouldn’t have been in the first place, Jason.” His voice dropped low. “Where were you supposed to be last night?” Jason knew the answer, felt it slip off his tongue and away from him. 

He couldn’t get his head on straight, needed to, dealing with Roman like this. 

“You were with that _bitch_ instead. What was her name again, Lia?” Ice slid down his veins. “I guess we can just blame her and call it a day, cut her open for letting my boy almost die.”

“No!” Jason threw his arm out, grabbed onto Roman’s white suit jacket. The silk underneath his palm grounded him, reminded him of what was important. He needed to keep Lia out of Roman’s mouth, needed Roman to go back to forgetting about her existence. “You’re right, it was my fault, all mine.” He had an inkling that from behind the mask Roman might be smiling at him. “I’m so sorry,” 

“I don’t believe you, son.” Jason wanted to whine. Did Roman even blink when he had that damn mask on? “You wasted my time, cost me a lot of money last night because you weren’t smarter. You let yourself get taken advantage of and it almost took you away from me.” He couldn’t stop the fucking tears, hated that there was a real disappointment in Roman’s voice. “It cannot happen again,” Jason wished the Mask was fucking off so he could see his face. Wished he could stop feeling so tired and hurt.

But he reached forward anyway, his hands still shaking and clumsy, fumbling for the opening in Roman’s pants. “It won’t,” He said, tried to flutter his eyelashes the way he knew Roman liked but his face was too heavy and he just ended up closing his eyes and slowly opening them back up, sinking a little further down into the bed. “I’ll make it up to you, Daddy, I promise.” A little slurred and quiet. It’s what Roman wanted to hear, so he said it, despite everything inside of him begging him to just let sleep take him. That was still the drugs talking. Roman cupped his cheek. 

“You go ahead and get started then,” Jason breathed out, tried to ignore how raw his throat already felt, pressed into his hand despite himself. “you got a lot of making up to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lia was Plato's OC first I'm just borrowing her. 
> 
> sharpbluejay on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sharpbluejay)/[tumblr.](https://sharpbluejay.tumblr.com/) Comments very welcome.


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